Favored Her Lies, Faced Their Regret

I was the real daughter—unloved, unwanted, and cast aside.

The design draft I poured my heart into was stolen by my second brother and gifted to the fake daughter.

Then he accused me of being a plagiarist. My father, the richest man in the city, had me blacklisted from the entire industry.

The fake daughter pretended to apologize, then pushed me off a cliff.

When I woke up, nearly all my bones had been shattered. I called my fiancé, the captain of the rescue team, but he was cradling the fake daughter's sprained ankle.

He scoffed, "Oh, you had an accident too? Want me to save you? Why don't you just die already?"

My body grew colder under the crushing pain.

My eldest brother, the forensic pathologist, cut open my rotting corpse while grumbling that he was late for the fake daughter's birthday.

Yet when they finally saw me again, they all cried, begging for my forgiveness.

My eldest brother, Orlando Zimmerman, rushed to the crime scene. "What's the situation?"

He looked at the decayed, mutilated body in front of him, furrowing his brow. Ironically, this was the first time I'd ever seen him anxious on my account.

Flies buzzed over what was left of me. My face had been flayed off; the features gnawed beyond recognition by animals.

His assistant, Neville Newton, swallowed hard. "The facial skin was cut off. A brutal death. Murder hasn't been ruled out."

Orlando examined the remains, his voice low and heavy. "Blunt-force trauma to the occiput. This was a homicide."

Just then, his phone rang. A voice came through. "Come home early tonight. We're celebrating. Gina's jewelry design just made it into the finals."

Orlando hesitated, a troubled expression crossing his face. I knew what was bothering him. The autopsy would delay him from accompanying the fake daughter, Gina Zimmerman.

If he knew the corpse waiting on his table was mine, he'd probably curse me for being troublesome even in death.

Now, even I could barely recognize this ruined thing as myself, not to mention Orlando, who had always hated me. He'd never suspected it was me.

"I might not make it tonight," he replied with a frown. "There's still work to do. You guys keep her company. Don't let her get upset because of that lunatic."

A bitter laugh escaped me. The "lunatic" he mentioned was undoubtedly me.

On the other end of the phone, my second brother, Jeremy Zimmerman, snorted, "Mabel? She's nothing. How could she ever make Gina upset? If she dares come home and act out, I'll break her legs."

I lowered my eyes, hiding the sting in them. I could never go home again. That place was never my home to begin with.

Who would believe that the real daughter of the richest family lived in a dark, damp basement? All because Gina once said she wasn't used to suddenly having an older sister.

I had been locked outside in blizzards, forced to sleep in the dog kennel.

Orlando paused, noticed the bracelet on the corpse's wrist. It was a gift he'd once given me.

"I'll call you back," he said hurriedly. "I've got work."

He studied the bracelet carefully, doubt flickering in his eyes. Then he shook his head and muttered, "Mabel's bracelet was broken ages ago. Lots of people wear the same accessory."

He dropped it into an evidence bag. I sighed, tears slipping from my eyes.

He had recognized it after all. It had been a gift from the jeweler when he ordered custom pieces for Gina.

He had tossed it into my lap the way someone might toss a bone to a stray dog. "Gina doesn't like tacky stuff. You can have it."

I had treated it like a sacred treasure. It was the first gift I ever received after returning to that house five years earlier.

Orlando had been surprised by my joy. A rare warmth softened his usually cold face.

I was so happy I never noticed the venom in Gina's eyes.

A few days later, after showering, I found the bracelet thrown into dirty fertilizer.

Orlando saw it, snapping, "If you don't want it, throw it away! Don't pretend you like it so much!"

Even after I paid a fortune to have it restored, he never looked at me again.

Maybe death was the best outcome for me. At least, I no longer had to endure their cruelty.